


The Crown, Book 1

by ShanaRHager



Series: The Crown [1]
Category: Luigi's Mansion (Video Games), Super Mario & Related Fandoms
Genre: 1950s, Drama, Fanon, Friendship, Multi, Origin Story, Period Piece, Supernatural - Freeform, Villain Protagonist, Young E. Gadd, lots of foreshadowing, the 50s
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:14:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25506508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShanaRHager/pseuds/ShanaRHager
Summary: A long time ago, Boocien was just a little Boo that could.  He wasn't taken seriously because of his slightly below-average size, but soon, everyone will wish they had.  As a crisis looms over Boo Woods in the 1950s, Boocien will rise through the ranks and become the most powerful Boo there is...the King.  This is the story of how he eventually claimed the crown.  Rated T for language, action/adventure violence, peril, thematic elements, alcohol use and some frightening and disturbing imagery.
Relationships: King Boo & Boolossus, King Boo & Boos, King Boo & Professor E. Gadd, OC/OC, Professor E. Gadd & OC
Series: The Crown [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1847812
Comments: 9
Kudos: 10





	1. Prologue

**Boo Woods**

**October 1955**

The large Boo sat, wrapped in a fine purple cape, listening to the hustle and bustle outside. This was it. In a few short moments, he would be the most powerful Boo of them all. Nobody really thought he’d make it to this point, but here he was. His tongue protruded from his mouth as he envisioned all of the things he’d do once he was on the throne, how he’d make Boo Woods a better place—how he’d crush his dominion’s enemies underfoot.

Then, he molded his face into the most solemn expression he could muster. This was supposed to be a solemn occasion, and he was expected to show humility. Otherwise, the Boos would think they allowed a maniac to assume power, and he didn’t want to give that impression, now did he?

Oh, yes. These fine woods had a promising future ahead of them, and from here into eternity, he would rule supreme.

The door opened, a smaller Boo poking their head in. The large Boo turned to meet their eyes, rising from his chair.

“Yes?” he asked.

The Boo grinned. “We’re ready for you,” they announced before disappearing.

Composing his features into that singular solemn expression, the large Boo smoothed out his cape, which had a violet brooch in the shape of a crescent moon pinned to it, and floated toward the double doors before him. Outside, two Boos pulled open the door, and the large Boo began his glide down the aisle, past the sea of his future subjects—and toward his destiny.

It was time.


	2. Just a Boo in the World

**Boo Woods**

**1916**

The two teams floated on the opposite sides of the net in two clusters of white. A volleyball bounced among one white cluster as one teammate expertly passed it to the other—until the teammate closest to the net sent the ball hurtling toward the opposing team.

“Get ready, everyone!” exclaimed the captain of the opposing team, quickly stopping the ball’s descent with their appendages and hefting it toward the teammate to their left. This teammate dove forward, spiking the ball and launching it back over the net for a point.

The team cheered.

“Way to hustle!” said the team captain. “Okay, Boos—make this next play, and the game’s ours. Boocien?”

Another Boo, smaller than the other Boos, came forward. “Yes?” he asked.

“They’re gonna pull out all the stops on this one,” said the team captain. “You think you can drive it back home?”

The one identified as Boocien glanced at the opposing team and then back at his teammates. “Yeah—I think I can,” he replied.

One teammate snickered in response. “Yeah, I just bet you do,” they said.

Boocien glared at his teammate, but said nothing.

“Okay,” he said as he positioned himself. “Let’s show them what you can do.”

The game resumed. Boocien took a deep breath as a Boo on the opposing team wound up and sizzled the ball toward him.

_Holy [bleep]! That ball’s coming too fast! I’m not gonna make it!_

With a tiny squeak, Boocien raised his small appendages, hoping to slow the ball enough to pass it to a teammate. Unfortunately, the projectile barreled into him, blowing him backward a considerable distance. He toppled end-over-end a few times before regaining his wits and righting himself. Then, he saw the volleyball on the ground and his teammates glaring at him.

“I—I can explain…” he began.

And then they were upon him.

“Thanks a lot, pipsqueak! You just cost us a big win!”

“We never should’ve let you onto the team!”

“You’re a useless little dollop!”

“Clumsy runt!”

“You call yourself a Boo?”

On and on it went, but Boocien didn’t cry. He refused to cry in front of them. As a Boo, showing any weakness was out of the question. If he betrayed even the slightest amount of hurt, then the dogs would set upon him more viciously than ever.

The cruel words followed Boocien as he floated off the court and toward the locker room with his head—er, body—held high. He stood under the shower’s cool mist and washed away the stink of his exertions with some mint-scented body wash. His tongue licked out of his mouth as he rinsed himself off, and then he floated out of the shower and stared at his reflection. Since he was a Boo, he could dry off quickly without a towel.

“Hey,” he told his reflection. “Chin up, okay? You may be small, but you have a big heart. That’s all that matters. They’ll see. They’ll all see that the smallest Boos can be dangerous, too!”

Boocien cackled and departed the locker room to continue his day.

_Breathe. Survive. Hold on._

**3:D 3:D 3:D**

A few weeks later, Boocien sat with several scores of other Boos, practicing his illusion-casting. One-by-one, the Boonstructor invited them to the front of the room so each Boo could show off their most intricate illusion. Some illusions, like a relaxing tropical getaway, the interior of a spa, a gorgeous manor or a four-star hotel, were perfect for deceiving the target. Others were suitable for psychological warfare, like the image of dead or dying loved ones, people in pain, the sights and sounds of torture and suffering or someone’s significant other cruelly scorning them. The Boonstructor gleefully applauded each illusion, genuinely enjoying their charges’ efforts as well as their job.

“Excellent,” cackled the Boonstructor. “You’re all getting used to your powers. Soon, you’ll be freely roaming these fine woods along with the rest of them.” Their eyes then fell on the smaller-than-average Boo. “Boocien? Would you like to show us an illusion of yours?”

“Like he even _has_ one,” chuckled another Boo.

The Boonstructor whipped around and glared at the Boo. “I will have _none_ of that behavior!” they warned. To Boocien, they said, “Come along—it’s all right. No two Boos are alike.”

Boocien grinned and made his way to the front. “I hope you’re ready,” he said.

“We are,” the Boonstructor said encouragingly. “Hit us with your best shot, Boocien!”

Boocien nodded and then concentrated hard, working to conjure his most nightmarish image yet, the image of a cold, dark and alien place where the target would die, preferably alone, injured and frightened. After his fellow Boos saw it, they wouldn’t be so quick to underestimate him then.

But—

All Boocien managed to get out was a gray, formless void.

The Boos stared, confused.

“Hold on,” said Boocien, focusing harder. “Almost got it…”

Unfortunately, nothing else came out. There was only gray nothingness.

All of the other Boos whispered among themselves. Boocien could feel the disapproval all over his rotund body.

He threw more and more effort into his casting. “C’mon, you stupid illusion,” he growled. “Don’t do this to me!”

“Okay—be honest,” said yet another Boo. “You don’t _have_ an illusion to show us, do you?”

“Yes, I do!” snapped Boocien. “It’s just taking a while, all right?”

“Oh, sure!” huffed a third Boo. “I think the illusion itself is embarrassed over coming from a tiny dollop like you!”

“That’s enough!” warned the Boonstructor.

Boocien focused all of his power, to no avail. The gray void before him blinked a few times—before disappearing altogether.

Quiet in the room.

Then, titters started springing up.

“It’s quite all right, Boocien,” said the Boonstructor, endeavoring to salvage the situation. “Illusions don’t come easily to some Boos at first.”

“Why? Are they all bite-sized, too?”

Giggling began to ripple among the rest of the Boos.

Boocien snarled. “I’m _not_ bite-sized!” he exclaimed.

“Hey, Tiny! Nice illusion!” cackled a Boo, ignoring him.

“Yeah, what do you have next, Teeny? A microscopic illusion?”

The giggles increased to full-on laughter.

“Stop this madness!” commanded the Boonstructor. “I won’t ask again!”

But the Boos ignored them, continuing to mock and laugh at Boocien. Hidden rage brewed in Boocien’s eyes as he stared at his fellow Boos.

_Laugh while you can, because I_ will _rise up from this! I’ll create the most powerful illusions anyone’s ever seen! And when I do, you all will_ pay _!_

Stewing in silence, Boocien floated back to his seat, the laughter, cackling and jeering suffusing him. And he absorbed it into his body, as it were, turning it into fiery hate—a potent weapon which he’d no doubt put to good use later.

**3:D 3:D 3:D**

Later that afternoon, Boocien sat with only a bunch of gnarled and leafless trees for company, chowing down on a couple of egg salad sandwiches. He enjoyed the silence—it helped him clear his head. But he most certainly _wasn’t_ crying. Crying wouldn’t make his situation better, now would it?

“Hey,” said a voice.

Boocien raised his head and saw another Boo floating toward him.

“Can I help you?” Boocien coolly asked.

“No, but _you_ look like you need help,” replied the Boo, “and not only do you need help, but you also need company.”

Boocien scoffed. “And what makes you say that?”

“You look lonely.”

“Maybe I like being lonely,” Boocien retorted. “It’s not like any company will appreciate me, anyway.”

“My friends and I will,” offered the Boo.

This gave Boocien pause. “Your—friends?”

“Yeah—we make for excellent company,” said the Boo, holding out an appendage. “C’mon—I’ll introduce you.”

“Introduce me—just so they can have another laugh at my expense?”

“They won’t laugh at you,” said the Boo. “I promise.”

Boocien’s guard was up. Should he trust the Boo, or not?

However, something in the Boo’s eyes soothed Boocien, and he reached over and took the Boo’s appendage.

The Boo beamed. “I’m Boostace.”

“I’m Boocien. Nice to meet you.”

The two floated over to a clearing near the woods, where twelve other Boos turned to greet them.

“There he is!” one of them said brightly.

“Hello, everyone,” said Boocien, still a bit guarded.

“Hello,” said one of the Boos. “You must be Boocien.”

“I am.”

“My name’s BooGene,” said the Boo. “I see you’ve already met Boostace.”

“Yes, I have.”

One by one, the rest of the Boos introduced themselves.

“I’m ElizaBoo.”

“I’m Boodoin.”

“I’m RoBoo.”

“I’m Boodward.”

“I’m AlBoo.”

“I’m Booginia.”

“I’m Boonadette.”

“I’m Boosephine.”

“I’m Boocille.”

“I’m Boowrence.”

“And I’m Boonard.”

“And we don’t care that you’re smaller-than-average,” said BooGene.

“You—don’t?” repeated Boocien.

“Nope,” said Boocille.

“Would you like to sit with us?” asked Boodoin.

Boocien’s face softened. “Sure,” he replied.

The Boos around the table moved around so that Boocien would have a place to sit. And as soon as he lowered himself into the chair, his mouth watered at the cornucopia of foods arranged on the table. Macaroni salad, BBQ pulled pork, BBQ chicken, roast chicken, tri-tip with mushroom and green onion sauce, various chilis, shrimp salad, egg salad, potato salad, roast beef medallions, twice-baked potatoes—and that was only the beginning. The fourteen Boos passed the bowls and platters around, serving themselves, and then they said grace before digging into their meal.

“This is very delicious,” said Boocien. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” said Boostace. “We want you to feel welcome in our little circle, so would you like to tell us what’s on your mind?”

“Yeah,” agreed BooGene. “It seems you have a lot to get off your chest.”

Boocien took a deep breath. “Truth is—I’m sick and tired of being seen as a joke,” he said. “Sure, I’m smaller than the average Boo, but don’t they know that size doesn’t matter? I’m trying my hardest to be the best Boo I can be, but it seems that I’m impeded at every turn. My powers have been slow in developing, and my small size has done more harm than good. I have been laughed at and made fun of by so many souls that I’ve forgotten all of their faces. And I just want it to stop.”

“Hey,” said AlBoo. “You can’t give up on things like this. You’ve got to pick yourself up and get right back on the horse, you know?”

“He’s right,” added ElizaBoo. “Things may be unbearable right now, but you’ll never know what’s coming for you.”

“ _We_ think,” said Boowrence, “that something _epic_ is headed your way.”

“How so?” asked Boocien.

“We see it in your eyes,” Boowrence explained. “You want to do something with your life. There’s ambition and verve in you. You want to rage against what everyone thinks about you and prove them wrong. Beneath that small exterior lies a huge fighting spirit. A fighting spirit which will take you farther than most Boos have gone.”

Boocien covered his eyes. “Oh, stop it,” he chided. “You’re just trying to butter me up.”

“We’re not,” said Boonadette. “We really mean it. You can’t quit. You can’t give in—not now. Your moment’s coming, and when it does—everything’s gonna fall into place.”

Boocien pulled his appendages away from his face.

“We believe in you, Boocien,” smiled Boocille. “We may have just met, but we believe in you.”

“Even so—you shouldn’t continue alone,” added Boonard. “You shouldn’t be too proud to ask for help.”

“Sometimes, it pays to have friends,” said Booginia.

“Well—it just so happens that I don’t have a lot of friends,” said Boocien. “Any friendly overtures toward me have turned out to be merely ulterior motives. As soon as my usefulness had run its course, I was dropped like yesterday’s garbage. Most of the time, I was only regarded as the punchline to a joke.”

“That ends today, Boocien,” said Boostace, “because now—you have friends.”

“You all—want to be my friends?” asked Boocien.

The thirteen Boos nodded.

“I—I don’t know what to say,” Boocien said. “The last time someone offered me friendship, it was a means to an end.”

“We know you’re wary, and you have every right to be,” said BooGene, “but we assure you, there’s no ulterior motive behind this. We _really_ want to be your friends. Something about you just—jumps at us.”

“That’s right,” chirped Boosephine. “You’re a cool Boo.”

“And you’re going to be cooler,” smiled Booginia. “Just you wait and see.”

A big smile stretched across Boocien’s face. “I—I can’t thank you enough,” he finally said. “This—this means so much to me.”

Boostace smiled. “You don’t have to be alone anymore,” they said comfortingly.

“Hey, did we miss anything?”

Boocien saw two more Boos fly over. One held a bottle of wine in each appendage, and the other held a dish covered in a white cloth.

“No—you’re just in time,” BooGene assured them. “There’s a new friend we’d like you to meet.”

The two new Boos set their things on the table and floated over to Boocien.

“Hello,” said Boocien.

“Hello,” replied the two Boos.

“Boocien, I’d like you to meet Faboozio and Booigi. Faboozio, Booigi—I’d like you to meet Boocien. He’s having it pretty rough right now, so what do you say to helping him out a little?”

“Why not?” smiled Faboozio.

“Yeah,” said Booigi. “We’re really happy you can join us. I bought us some sweet wine to enjoy, and Faboozio brought some ziti along.”

“Thanks, Booigi,” said Boocien. “Thanks, Faboozio.”

“No problem,” the two Boos said in unison.

With a flourish, Booigi uncorked one of the bottles of wine and set about pouring it into glasses. When he was done, he raised his own glass in a toast. “To Boocien,” he said.

“To Boocien,” said the Boos.

“And to all of you,” replied Boocien, raising his glass.

They took a sip of wine and then helped themselves to Faboozio’s ziti.

“So—what exactly is going on with your powers?” asked Booigi.

“Earlier today, I tried to create an illusion,” said Boocien, “but all I wound up with was a gray void. And everyone laughed at me.”

“What illusion were you going for?” asked BooGene.

Boocien smiled. “The ultimate psychological assault,” he said. “I’d want my target to know that they’re about to die, and that there’s nothing they can do about it. So—I tried to conjure up a dark, hostile place where they could die alone.”

A beat.

Boosephine whistled. “That’s—intense,” they mused.

“I see your problem,” said Boostace. “You’re thinking way too big. If you want to master the art of illusions, then you’ll need to start small.”

“Start small?”

Boostace nodded. “Just focus on something nice and easy, and then build from there.”

“Nice and easy…” mused Boocien. Then, he said the first thing that came to his mind. “A door.”

“That’s a good starting point,” said BooGene.

Boocien concentrated, and lo and behold, a door appeared out of nowhere.

“Wow! You’re doing it!” laughed Boocille. “Okay, what’s inside that door?”

“Nothingness,” replied Boocien.

“Like that gray stuff?” asked Faboozio.

“Darkness?” offered Boosephine.

Boocien focused, his eyes lighting up. Slowly, the door opened, and the other Boos glimpsed swirls of violet and black from within.

“Just—a void of nothingness,” Boocien said in a singsong voice. “Where no one can hear you scream.”

“My God,” breathed AlBoo. “I’d hate to be the Boo that gets on your bad side.”

“D—n straight,” said Boocien.

Booigi floated toward Boocien, rapt fascination mixed with apprehension on their face.

“There’s a darkness about you,” said Booigi as they looked Boocien over, “and in that darkness, there are eyes staring back at me. Blue eyes, hazel eyes, eyes concealed by spectacles. Mark my words, Boocien—one day, they’ll fear you.”

Boocien giggled and licked out his tongue. “And I won’t have it any other way,” he said.

By nightfall, Boocien was flying through Boo Woods in much lighter spirits, surrounded by his fifteen new friends. They drifted together in a large, circular cluster, resembling an atom, with Boocien as the nucleus. Their giggles echoed throughout the darkening sky, Boocien feeling giddiness coursing through him. Booigi’s words repeated in his head, and he knew that the Boo was right. If he kept practicing and kept his head up, then one day, he’d be feared like any other Boo. And those who’d dared mock him would be in for a rude awakening.

_One day, they’ll fear you…_

**3:D 3:D 3:D**

The next day, the Boos once again gathered to practice their illusions, but this time, Boocien was feeling pretty good about himself. Once everyone settled down, the Boonstructor took role call and gazed over the Boos seated before him.

“I hope we don’t have a repeat of yesterday’s display,” they warned.

Silence.

“That’s what I thought,” said the Boonstructor. “Now—who wants to go first?”

Boocien’s hand shot up.

“Very well, Boocien. Good to see that your past setbacks haven’t deterred you in the slightest. Come on up.”

Boocien rose from his seat and lazily floated over to the front of the room, anticipation boiling in the base of his rotund body.

“Before we start, I’d like to apologize for yesterday’s mishap,” he said. “Hopefully— _this_ will make up for it.”

He took a deep breath, looked into the faces of the Boos who’d laughed at him the other day and _focused_. Next to him, the small door appeared, just an innocuous, thick oak door with a simple doorknob. Most of the Boos smirked, while some frowned lightly.

“That’s it?” asked a Boo. “That’s all you have for us?”

“I’m glad you asked that question,” said Boocien, “because the answer—is ‘no’.”

The door opened, revealing a swirling miasma of different shades of purple. Boocien’s face split into a grin as the open door hovered closer to the Boos. And then, he concentrated harder, harder, _harder_ —

Until—

One by one, all of the Boos that had considered him a laughingstock were dragged towards the door, towards that vortex. Appendages flailed, and startled squeaks and shrieks rang out. But Boocien wasn’t quite satisfied yet. Once again doubling his efforts, he watched in pure delight as the Boos were shoved into the vortex, a chain of white, rotund bodies.

And then the door slammed shut after the last one.

Only the Boonstructor and the Boos who hadn’t laughed at Boocien were spared this fate.

His fifteen new friends smiled approvingly.

Muffled screams and banging could be heard from within the door. Boocien hovered close to the door for a second, eyes closed, immersing himself in what he’d created. A giggle escaped from him, and then another and another, until he was giggling maniacally. The giggling became cackling—cackling which significantly lowered a few registers. It wasn’t quite the signature cackle we know today, but it was the beginnings of that cackle.

“Er—Boocien?” the Boonstructor spoke up. “That’s a very creative illusion you have there, but—could you see your way to…?”

Boocien’s cackling eased off, and he rolled his eyes. “All right,” he huffed, releasing the offending Boos from the illusions.

Those Boos now stared wide-eyed at him, seeking to get as far away from him as possible. Boocien regarded them evenly, licking out his tongue.

“Any questions?” he asked.

They all shook their heads.

“You’re not laughing now—are you?” he went on.

Again, they shook their heads.

“Will you laugh at me again?”

Another shake of their heads.

Boocien cackled. “I thought so,” he said.

The days of being called a runt and a pipsqueak were at an end. And as Boocien looked into the faces of his fellow Boos, he knew right then and there the kind of Boo he wanted to be.

A Boo with power.

A Boo with respect.

A Boo with mastery over every illusion under the sun.

A Boo who’d see to it that no other Boos would be looked down on again.

A Boo who’d lead these fine woods into prosperity over the next thousands of years.

A Boo who’d be loved as well as feared.

Their leader.

Their protector.

Their benefactor.

**3:D**

**3:D**

**3:D**

**3:D**

**_Their King._**


	3. The Boo Who Will Be King

**Boo Woods**

**1928**

The past twelve years had been kind to Boocien. His friendship with the fifteen Boos had strengthened, and the other Boos began taking him more seriously. Also, he continued working on his illusions, following his friends’ advice and beginning small before expanding on each illusion. Following his trick with the door, nobody dared laugh at or mock him, and everyone wanted him to play on their team when it came to sports like volleyball, basketball and even dodgeball. The apologies came fast and fierce, and luckily for them, Boocien was a forgiving soul, for the most part. He had no time to think about what had been done to him, anyway, because now, there were goals waiting for him to reach.

On this particular day, Boocien and his friends were at the annual Boo Fair. They’d made it their mission to ride every ride and play every carnival game, but right now, they were taking a little break. Floating along together, giggling among themselves with ice cream cones in their appendages, the Boos came across a fortune teller’s tent and paused.

“What do you think?” asked Booigi. “Wanna give it a shot?”

“Why not?” grinned Boocien. “I like to live dangerously.”

“We’ll wait outside,” said Boosephine.

“Thanks,” said Boocien before floating into the tent.

The fortune teller stood across from Boocien, her back to him. “Please, sit,” she said. “Put your money on the table, and we’ll begin.”

Boocien flipped a couple of coins onto the table as he sat back.

The fortune teller turned around, revealing herself as a beautiful woman clothed in fine silk, a scarf obscuring the lower half of her face. “Welcome,” she said. “I’m Madame Clairvoya.”

“I’m Boocien.”

“Nice to meet you, Boocien,” said Madame Clairvoya. “Would you like to know your fortune?”

“Yes, please.”

Madame Clairvoya sat across from Boocien and placed her hands on a crystal ball, which began to glow light blue. “If you have a specific question,” she said, “then hold it inside your mind.”

“Okay—I just don’t know what to ask,” said Boocien.

“Take your time,” said Madame Clairvoya.

Boocien sat there, deep in thought. Then, he spoke up.

“Is there anything big ahead of me?” he asked.

“Well—let’s look into my crystal ball and see,” said Madame Clairvoya.

The aforementioned ball’s glow changed from light blue to purple.

“Ah,” said Madame Clairvoya. “Purple. The color of royalty—and madness.”

“Royalty,” Boocien repeated. “Will I eventually serve the Boos’ royal court?”

“Is that what you desire?” asked Madame Clairvoya.

“I desire—power,” said Boocien. “Power and respect. I’m underestimated due to my small size, you see. I’ve grown a little in the past twelve years, but I’m underestimated all the same.”

“Take my hand, Boocien.”

Reaching over, Boocien obliged.

“Rest assured, you won’t be estimated for long,” smiled Madame Clairvoya. “The Boos will grow to—admire you.”

“Hm. That’s good to know,” said Boocien. “I can lead them to places they could never imagine. These woods could become a world power—in the right hands. What else lies in store for me?”

“I see triumphs, new opportunities—and a crisis. But,” the fortune teller added off of Boocien’s alarmed look, “you will emerge from this crisis a new Boo.”

Boocien giggled.

“Now—let me ask you a question, Boocien. Do you want revenge on those who laughed at you? Or do you want to serve the public?”

“I want to serve the public,” replied Boocien. “I’m willing to let bygones be bygones—for now. You said that I’ll face a crisis? Well, I want to lead my fellow Boos out of crisis. I want to make us _feared_.”

“That’s what you _say_ , but what I _see_ is different.”

“What do you see?”

“Darkness. You’re hurting from the times people made fun of you.”

“Who _wouldn’t_ hurt? But revenge won’t make it better. It won’t undo what’s already been done.”

“You want the perpetrators to hurt for what they’ve done to you. That’s where the darkness comes from. I think that revenge will be your main motivator. You’ll aggressively pursue any enemy you make.”

“That’s a popular trait among Boos,” said Boocien.

“When you say that you want to help your fellow Boos, I know you’re not lying,” said Madame Clairvoya. “The darkness comes from _how_ you want to help them.”

“What are you saying?” frowned Boocien.

“Be honest with me, Boocien. Do you want to be King?”

Boocien grinned, licking out his tongue. “No,” he replied, “I want to be _the_ King.”

“As in—the King of all Boos?”

“Yes. I want to rule supreme over not just every Boo in this forest—but over every last single spirit in the world.”

“It appears—you’re already on your way,” said Madame Clairvoya.

“I am?”

“Indeed. I see you’ve won a crown in one of the carnival games. Show it, if you please, to Madame Clairvoya.”

Boocien gave the crown to the fortune teller, who turned it over and over in her hands. “A King—a King…” she murmured. “Ah, yes—you _will_ be King.”

“Are you certain?” asked Boocien.

“As certain as the sun rises in the east and sets in the west,” Madame Clairvoya replied. “The spirits have spoken to me, and they’ve set forth the truth.”

Boocien listened intently.

“King you will be—robed in purple on your coronation day, a golden crown placed upon your head, topped by a jewel which will glow brighter than the stars. And all of the Boos will regale you in the streets, wishing you a long and prosperous reign.”

This elicited a cackle from Boocien.

“King you will be, Boocien. King you will be—for a time.”

Boocien stopped cackling.

Madame Clairvoya seemed to stare through him now, her pupils dilated. “Then comes another,” she warned, “younger, handsomer, kinder, more virtuous. He will strike you down and paint your downfall in red, green and blue.”

Her eyes focused, and she looked straight at Boocien. “There’s no telling _when_ this will happen,” she said, “but it _will_ happen. And there will be _nothing_ you can do to stop it.”

Boocien’s mind whirled. _No! I will_ not _claw my way to the top just to have some upstart fool take it away from me!_

Madame Clairvoya’s soft laughter brought him back to the present.

“So,” she finished. “You’ll be King someday. But it won’t last forever.”

Boocien swallowed and rose from his seat. “Thank you for your time, Madame Clairvoya,” he said politely.

“Boocien, it was my pleasure,” she replied.

She laughed again as Boocien turned and left.


	4. Sing, Swing and Say Boo

**Boo Woods**

**October 1937**

It was that time again—the annual Boo Woods JuBoolee. This celebration was a deeply ingrained tradition, and it was popularly held on the day before Halloween. The JuBoolee was a night dedicated to the Boos and their King, and there was lots of food, drinking, dancing and games. You could find tourists partaking in the festivities, as well, and this increased tourism served to boost Boo Woods’ economy.

All of the Boos looked forward to the JuBoolee—Boocien included. The smaller-than-average Boo had experienced a slight growth spurt in recent years, and his eyes now had a slight purple light in them. Years of practicing his Boo magic were to thank for that, and not only could he command and control his powers, but also he resolved to use them for good, rather than for petty revenge. He remained tight-knit with those singular fifteen Boos—one could argue that they were closer than ever now. It was challenging to name a time when Boocien wasn’t out and about with the fifteen Boos clustered around him. So it was no surprise that they were attending the JuBoolee together.

They hovered at the main stage together, watching as a particularly large and imposing Boo glided out. This Boo wore a gold crown decorated with red and blue gems on his head along with a crimson royal cape, and a ceremonial sword was strapped to his hip. He, of course, was the current King, and he greeted his subjects with an elegant royal wave.

“Good evening,” he said.

“Good evening, Your Grace,” said the Boos.

“Our most favorite time of the year is once again upon us,” said the King. “A time for every Boo to put on their scariest faces and for Boo culture to be fully savored and appreciated. This year marks my 1150th JuBoolee as your King—and counting!”

Cheers and cackles.

“As for our lovely visitors—don’t be afraid! Celebrate with us!” the King went on. “We won’t bite—not that hard. Eat some good food. Dance to some music. Tour our Ghost Houses. Gaze upon our finest works of art. Mix and mingle with Boos young and old and big and small. Don’t get left out in the cold—Halloween is almost here! Why not ring it in with the cutest and coolest ghosts you’ll ever meet? And so—without further ado—I’m proud to formally welcome you to—our annual—JuBoolee!”

Another cheer rang out, and a big band came onstage and began to play some swinging standards. Attendees quickly crowded the dance floor, dancing cheek-to-cheek, twirling and spinning each other, flipping each other over their backs like jitterbuggers. Boos paired up and swung each other round and round, and the atmosphere was overall upbeat and inhibition free.

“Hey, Boocien!”

Boocien pulled away from the crowd and turned to face Faboozio as he glided forward.

“Hiya, Faboozio,” said Boocien. “Nice party, huh?”

“It sure is,” Faboozio said brightly. “Listen—there’s someone I want you to meet.” He held out his appendage to Boocien. “C’mon.”

Boocien took the appendage, and the two Boos floated over to a lounge area, where tourists and Boos sat around, sipping on drinks.

Faboozio led Boocien to a fresh-faced young man—nay, barely a boy—seated alone at one of the tables, enjoying a rather modest meal. The boy had a head full of jet black hair, a large tuft of it sticking up straight like a candle flame. He was attired in a formal suit with a bow tie, and a pair of opaque glasses obscured his eyes. There was an air of—eccentricity—about him, and Boocien decided that he liked the kid.

The boy turned as the Boos approached him. “Oh! Hello, there,” he said, with a noticeable New England accent.

“Hey,” said Faboozio. “Would you like to meet my friend?”

“Uh—sure,” replied the boy.

“Hi,” said Boocien. “I’m Boocien.”

“Nice to meet you, Boocien,” said the boy. “My name’s Elvin.”

“Elvin? That’s a nice name,” mused Boocien.

“Elvin here hopes to be an inventor,” said Faboozio.

“True,” said Elvin, “and from there, I hope to branch into research.”

“And what do you plan to research?” asked Boocien.

Elvin’s eyes shone. “The paranormal.”

Faboozio and Boocien made themselves comfortable at Elvin’s table.

“How old are you, Elvin?” asked Boocien.

“I’m eighteen,” Elvin replied, “and I just started my first year at UConn.”

“UConn,” repeated Boocien. “You’re from the States, huh?”

“Yep. Hartford, Connecticut, to be exact,” smiled Elvin.

“Is this your first time in Boo Woods?” asked Boocien.

“It is,” replied Elvin. “Funny thing—I was walking toward the dining commons after a long day of classes a few weeks ago, and then this mysterious portal appeared in front of me. I’ve always been curious, so I stepped through and found myself here. After I complete my studies, maybe I can live here full-time.”

“We’d like that,” said Boocien.

“I…” Elvin cleared his throat. “I used to be afraid of ghosts when I was younger.”

“Really?” asked Boocien.

“It’s true,” sighed Elvin. “They kept me awake at night, haunting me. The other kids at school would make fun of me for it.”

Boocien felt a twinge of sympathy. He’d also been picked on, due to his below-average size.

“But—I grew stronger from it. I fought it tooth-and-nail, and now I’ve made it my mission to discover what makes ghosts so frightening, so succeeding generations won’t have to be frightened of them!” Elvin declared. “And also—also—I hope to come across another frightened youngster, look into their eyes and help them battle their own fears.”

“In other words—you hope to mentor somebody?” asked Boocien.

Elvin nodded. “I do. Maybe if this whole inventor thing doesn’t pan out, then I’ll become—a Professor. A Professor of Paranormal Science.”

Boocien bit his lip. “I hope to mentor others, as well,” he said, “but my endgame is to become King and better these wonderful woods, along with the lives of other ghosts in general.”

“Maybe,” Faboozio chimed in, “you can study ghosts _and_ invent things. Now wouldn’t _that_ be something?”

“Why, yes,” replied Elvin. “Yes, it is.”

Suddenly, Elvin burst into laughter. “Yes—I think I’ll do that!” he exclaimed. “I’ll use my brilliant mind to teach others—and to create!”

“What inventions do you have in mind?” asked Faboozio.

“You know, I’m not quite sure,” replied Elvin, “but I hope to invent something that will revolutionize life as we know it.”

Several more of Boocien’s friends gravitated over to join Elvin.

“Hello, stranger,” said Boostace. “We see you’ve met Boocien.”

“I have,” said Elvin. “Are you his friends?”

“You bet we are,” replied Boowrence. “We’ve been good friends for 21 good years—and counting.”

_21 years—has it really been that long?_ Boocien thought.

“Is this your first JuBoolee?” asked Boosephine.

“It is,” said Elvin.

“Are you glad you attended?” asked Boodoin.

“I am.”

“And do you count on returning next year?” asked Boodward.

“Hmm—maybe,” said Elvin. “It depends on my school schedule.”

“He’s taking classes at UConn,” explained Boocien.

“Ah,” said AlBoo. “You’re a studious one, aren’t you, kid?”

“The name’s Elvin. Elvin Gadd, at your service. And I plan to major in Paranormal Science and dedicate the rest of my life to ghost research.”

“Well,” Boocien said craftily, “as long as your ghost research doesn’t disrupt our woods—knock yourself out.”

“I assure you—I won’t perturb your daily lives,” promised Elvin.

“All right, Elvin,” said Boocille, “since we’re all here, allow us to introduce ourselves to you.”

The Boos introduced themselves to the young UConn student, shaking his hand.

“I—I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”

Booigi had arrived on the scene, pausing when his eyes fell on Elvin. With a tiny squeak, the Boo covered his face.

“It’s okay,” Elvin said softly. “I won’t hurt you.”

Slowly, Booigi removed his appendages and met Elvin’s face. “Promise?” he asked.

“Promise.”

Elvin held out a hand. Tentatively, Booigi shook it.

“H-hi,” Booigi said shyly.

“That’s Booigi,” said Boocien. “He’s a bit shy and cautious, but when push comes to shove, he can be just as imposing as the rest of us.”

Booigi perked up. “That’s right!” he chimed in, a measure of confidence entering his voice. “I’m good friends with all of the Boos here. I wanna be _your_ friend, too, Elvin. Can we be friends?”

“Sure,” beamed Elvin.

“Yay!” cheered Booigi. “I promise to look after you and cheer you up and protect you. _No one_ messes with a fellow Boo on _my_ watch. And the day anyone lays hands on Boocien…” Booigi’s face darkened into a glare. “…then they’ve _really_ had it.”

Boocien cackled. “That’s Booigi for you!” he crowed. “Reserved on the outside and feisty on the inside!”

The rest of Boocien’s friends floated over, making Elvin’s acquaintance.

Just as Elvin finished his meal, the band began playing “Sing, Sing, Sing”, by Benny Goodman.

Elvin stood up from his seat and faced Boocien. “Shall we?” he asked.

“Might as well,” grinned Boocien.

Elvin shrugged off his suit jacket and tossed it aside before striding onto the dance floor. Boocien and his friends followed close behind.

And then Elvin and Boocien began to dance an energetic swing together, with the former showing off some tap-dancing skills as well. Boocien expertly picked up and flipped his dance partner around, leapfrogging him, twirling him and dipping him as everyone else looked on. Then, Elvin further wowed the crowd with the cartwheels and backflips he sprinkled throughout the dance, along with the way he kept perfect time with his Boo partner. A big smile was on his face, and everyone could tell that this was the most fun he’d had in, well, ever. Boocien was having fun, too, and it wasn’t long before he invited his 15 companions to join in, carefully and playfully tossing Elvin to one he saw at random. Boosephine, Boostace, AlBoo, Booigi and the rest of them all had their opportunity to dance with the college freshman as the attendees formed a circle around them, clapping along with the beat and cheering him on. Between the Boos’ aerial stunts and Elvin’s acrobatic dance moves, it was truly a breathtaking sight to behold.

Eventually, it got to the point that Boocien and his friends just stood back and let Elvin have the floor to himself. Here, the young man _really_ showed off, letting out whatever tension and energy he’d kept bottled up inside. College was a daunting prospect, especially if one was a Science major, and since Elvin wanted to get into Paranormal Science, he had a hard climb ahead of him. He needed as many opportunities as he could to cut loose, and that’s exactly what he did.

The song ended, and Elvin finished his dance with a flourish and a little bow. He was breathing heavily, and sweat sparkled on his face, but Boocien noticed that he was a tad more relaxed.

“Thanks,” gasped Elvin when some of his breath was back. “I needed that.”

“So did I,” said Boocien.

“You, my friend, are one amazing dance partner,” said Elvin.

“And so are you,” replied Boocien. “I hope we’ll have the chance to dance again.”

“You know what?” asked Elvin. “Something tells me that we will.”

Boocien giggled. “I will _never_ forget you, Elvin Gadd.”

“And I’ll never forget you, Boocien.”

The two parted after exchanging friendly smiles, having finished the first of the countless more dances they’d share…


	5. What's Boo With You?

**Boo Woods**

**1951**

Life had never been better for Boocien and his companions. Following their chance meeting with young Elvin, the other Boos had started to notice them, and I mean _really_ notice them. Was it because they’d actually _danced_ with a human, or was it something more? One thing was certain—nobody was making fun of Boocien nowadays, and he was certainly glad for that.

Boocien and Elvin had stayed in touch, exchanging letters every so often. The latter did well in his college, not getting into unnecessary scuffles and graduating at the top of his class. After that, Elvin had dove into his postgraduate studies, and as promised, earned his degree in Paranormal Science. As of his recent letter, he was living comfortably in New York City, working his way toward becoming a college professor.

While Elvin was pursuing his goals, so was Boocien. He’d worked harder than ever before on his illusions, and now he was a Boonstructor in his own right, becoming a guiding light to young Boos. Also, he seemed to be growing bigger as the years passed, and his eyes now had a noticeable purple iris. Purple—the color of genius—and of madness.

And it just so happened that he’d finally captured the King’s attention.

Which brings us to our current scene—Boocien and his companions, seated at a table in the castle’s Banquet Hall, receiving the opportunity to neck with high Boo society.

The table’s occupants rose as the King floated in, accompanied by his bodyguards and attendants.

“Hello, everyone,” he greeted. “You may sit.”

Once everyone was seated, the food was served, and then the King turned to Boocien.

“I’ve heard a lot of things about you,” he said.

“Good or bad, Your Grace?” Boocien asked, a little nervously.

“Mostly good,” the King said reassuringly. “My advisors tell me that you were picked on as a child. But you didn’t let that stop you.”

Boocien beamed. “No, I didn’t,” he replied.

“And man, did you cut a rug at the JuBoolee in ’37!” chuckled the King.

Everyone else chuckled with him.

“That was the most fun I’d had in a long time, Your Grace,” Boocien said softly.

“I also couldn’t help but notice your interactions with one of the attendees that night,” mused the King. “One Elvin Gadd, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Yes—the college student,” said Boocien. “He’s doing quite well now. I—I didn’t do anything wrong by befriending him, did I?”

“I assure you, that’s not the case,” smiled the King. “On the contrary, I believe you made a smart move.”

“How so?”

“As the King of all Boos, I have a feeling about that young man,” the King enigmatically responded, “and your friendship with him could work to our advantage. He _did_ say that he was interested in a career involving the paranormal.”

Boocien understood instantly. “You think he might find a way to…”

“It’s a strong possibility,” said the King. “Adding to this is the fact that ghosts terrified him as a child. Do you think he’d want revenge, now that he’s grown up?”

Boocien clucked his tongue. “He never struck me as someone out for revenge,” he said, “but we can’t take that risk. Are you—asking me to spy on him for you?”

“My dear Boocien—that’s not necessary. I see and know everything, remember?” The King giggled. “Now—here’s my proposal. I see a lot of promise in you. Our previous Boonstructor told me about your groundbreaking illusions, and you’re not doing so bad as a Boonstructor yourself. How would you like—to join my court?”

Boocien knelt before his King. “Your Grace,” he said humbly, “I’d love that more than anything, but—what will become of the younger Boos still requiring my direction?”

“Fear not—you’ll keep your job as Boonstructor,” smiled the King, “but you’ll also become one of my advisors. Times are changing, Boocien, which means that I’ll need a representative of the newest generation at my side.”

Boocien took a deep breath before responding.

“I won’t let you down, Your Grace,” he vowed.

“I know you won’t, Boocien.”

“Your Grace?” ventured Boocien. “The fifteen Boos joining me tonight have been there for me from the beginning. While others laughed at me, they offered me their friendship. Could you see your way to making them your advisors, as well?”

“You are a close-knit circle of Boos, aren’t you?” smiled the King. “Very well. While I can’t make all of them my advisors—perhaps I could make them my newest bodyguards. A King can never have too many bodyguards, after all.”

“Thank you, Your Grace,” said Boocien. “I look forward to becoming your advisor.”

“And I look forward to hearing your advice,” replied the King.

Boocien raised his glass. “I’ll drink to that,” he said.

“So will we,” Booigi piped up as he and the other Boos raised their glasses, too.

All of the Boos toasted before continuing to enjoy their meal.

Boocien couldn’t wait to tell Elvin about this. He bet that the fellow would be shocked to his very toes!

**3:D 3:D 3:D**

Life as the King’s new advisor began the very next day. Boocien and his companions arrived at the castle early in the morning and were led to the throne room, where they were introduced to the other members of the King’s court—the bodyguards, the attendants, the other advisors—even Boonana, the court fool. The newcomers were given a warm welcome, and the older advisors practically fought each other to get a newcomer to take under their wing. Nonetheless, the mood was generally cheery.

Court life was far from a somber affair, as the King proved to be a rather fun-loving and eccentric guy. In addition to Boonana’s antics, local pop groups and barbershop quartets were also invited to entertain the royal populace. The King tended to open and close meetings by playing one of his favorite records. He allowed people to greet him with casual handshakes and hugs, rather than bowing or kneeling, choosing to save the formalities for special occasions. And whenever a Boo aired a grievance, the King listened carefully and openly called upon his advisors for guidance before responding. In addition, the King sometimes answered a visitor’s questions with questions of his own and doled out advice like a seasoned advice columnist.

And during their downtime, the King would organize activities for the members of his court, encouraging them to establish strong and healthy friendships with one another. There was no backstabbing and plotting to be seen here. The Boos were rather open ghosts, and their King was among the most open and honest kings the history books had ever recorded.

What about Boocien?

Well, he looked—and felt—as if he belonged at court. He never felt more alive than when he sat at the King’s oval-shaped table with the other advisors, discussing what the next edict should be or what new problem should be addressed. There was the satisfied feeling he experienced when he saw a downtrodden Boo’s face light up at the King’s presence and knew that he had a hand in it, as well. And there was the utmost confidence the King had in his abilities. Years ago, very few Boos had such confidence in him.

Also, as promised, the King employed Boocien’s companions as his bodyguards. And whenever he decided to go shopping, run errands or simply go for a walk, he’d invite Boocien to come with him, so that he could hang around with his friends. Usually, you wouldn’t notice a royal being so conspicuous in a supermarket or at a park, but this King was extremely popular. None of the other Boos had a reason to hurt him, and he didn’t have to worry about death threats because, well, he and his subjects were already dead. So, over the next few weeks or so, Boos young and old would be treated to the sight of their King enjoying the fresh air, Boocien beside him, as the fifteen other Boos floated around them like so many electrons surrounding an atom’s nucleus.

Eventually, however, it was time for the King and his court to get down to business. And the day this occurred was a day Boocien would never forget—

**3:D 3:D 3:D**

The entire populace of Boo Woods had gathered in the castle’s spacious meeting hall, chattering amongst themselves. When they’d received the urgent radio message summoning them to their King’s castle, they knew that something was going on. Whether it was the threat of military conflict or some other crisis, the King never called these meetings unless he felt that the safety, health and well-being of his subjects was at stake.

Their suspicions were confirmed when the King floated in, trailed by his entourage, solemn expressions on their faces.

The other Boos rose from their chairs as the King entered.

“Please, be seated,” he said.

Everyone sat back down.

“This emergency meeting will now come to order,” the King went on. “Due to the urgency of this situation, I shall allow the proceedings to be broadcasted on all radio frequencies.”

He paused before continuing. “I’m afraid—some rather—disturbing—news has come in from the States. It appears—a groundbreaking new device has been developed. A device which has the ability to stun, subdue and capture ghosts.”

The Boos exchanged alarmed looks.

Booigi got up and floated around the table, warily passing around photos to the other assembled Boos. These black-and-white photos showed a cylindrical apparatus with some sort of nozzle attached to it.

Boocien frowned as he stared at one of the photos. “It looks like some sort of vacuum cleaner,” he said.

“It is,” said Booigi. “A vacuum cleaner—for ghosts!” He sounded equal parts apprehensive and fascinated.

“And it also has a flashlight function,” said the King. “The light stuns the ghost, allowing whoever’s using this device to suck them into the vacuum.”

Silence.

“We’ve also received footage of this device in use,” the King went on, holding up a film reel, “but I must warn you—this footage may be difficult to watch.”

Boostace helped the King load the film into a projector and switched it on. The other Boos glanced toward the screen in front of them, waiting in suspense.

In the film’s first frames, a ghost smirked, stalking menacingly toward the camera. Suddenly, a bright beam of light was directed at the ghost, freezing them in place. This beam of light was followed by a swirling vortex, pulling the ghost out of the frame as they desperately struggled. And then the film ended.

The meeting hall immediately erupted in a flurry of curses and blasphemes. Up until now, the Boos had thought they were untouchable. But they’d just seen a mysterious device—a vacuum cleaner, of all things—effortlessly take down a ghost like they were nothing!

“Everybody calm down!” the King said authoritatively. “We are _not_ going to panic!”

Instantly, the Boos composed themselves.

“Your Grace,” said a Boo. “What do you propose we do?”

“There’s no immediate threat at this time,” the King replied. “This device is still being used exclusively in the States. However, I ask that this situation be heavily monitored. If such a device falls into the wrong hands—then it could spell the end of Boo society as we know it.”

There was more silence as the Boos took in the gravity of the situation.

“Well—we can’t just sit here, can we?” Boocien spoke up. “We need to beef up our defenses and find more creative ways to use our powers, in case that device _does_ make its way into these woods. Make no mistake, we’re not gonna let some vacuum cleaner SHWEEERRPP-SHLOOOORP-WHOORPP-SHLEEEEOOORG us without a proper fight!”

“Yeah!” Booigi led the charge. “I’m not scared of any vacuum, and you shouldn’t be either! We’re not just any old ghosts—we’re Boos, for God’s sake!”

The Boos murmured among themselves.

“You are absolutely right,” said the King. “That device will eventually be brought into these woods. It’s inevitable. And there’s no time like the present to prepare for the inevitable.”

The mood had begun to lighten at this point. Boocien was beginning to convince them that this device—whatever it was—wasn’t kicking off some extinction-level event anytime soon.

“I know the perfect starting point,” said Boocien.

“We’re listening,” said the King.

Boocien grinned. “Let’s keep our friends close—and our enemies closer,” he said. “Let’s find out who invented this device, earn their trust—and then strike when they least expect it!”

“An old-fashioned sneak attack,” said the King. “I like it, Boocien. Who else is on board with this plan?”

His response was met with a flurry of cackling.

“Although,” added the King, “I’ve already been made aware of the mad scientist behind this device.”

“Who is it, Your Grace?” asked Booigi.

“We’ve traced the device to an eccentric paranormal investigator living in New York City,” said the King. “He teaches Paranormal Science at Colombia University.”

“Oh, my God,” gasped Boocien. “He’s none other than…”

“That’s right, my dear Boocien,” said the King, pulling out another black-and-white photo of a dark-haired young man.

All of the Boos stared intently at him.

“One Professor Elvin Gadd.”


	6. Unforgettable

**Colombia University**

**New York City**

**1951**

Professor Elvin Gadd walked into the lecture hall and set his materials on his desk, gazing out at his students as they situated themselves. He was clad in a suit and tie, and his eyes were concealed by a pair of opaque spectacles. His hair was neatly styled, save for a large tuft of hair which stood straight up like a candle’s flame. Despite his eccentric appearance, the Professor was popular among Colombia University’s students and faculty, since he taught an interesting subject—paranormal science.

The last of Gadd’s students arrived and took their seats. Among them was a particularly studious freshman, dressed in a white, button-down shirt, a green bow tie, black slacks held up by suspenders and a pair of sensible shoes. A fire-engine red backpack was on the student’s back. He had expressive, hazel eyes, an angular face, olive skin and a thin mustache. Also, he was the only Italian-American in Gadd’s class.

It was now 9a.m. Time for class to begin.

“Good morning, students,” said Gadd.

“Good morning, Professor,” the students replied.

“First, some announcements,” said Gadd. “We’ll be having a drill later today, so don’t be too alarmed when you hear the siren. Also, don’t forget to indicate what you plan to bring to the Halloween party at the end of the month by filling out the forms I gave you. Any questions?”

“Yeah, I’ve got a question,” said the class jock, Gregory “Greg” St. Clair. “Do you plan to come as you are? Because you’ll fit right in, being a mad scientist and all.”

Titters.

The freshman shot Greg a disapproving look, but remained silent. However, despite his quiet and reserved demeanor, Gadd sensed a furnace within the youngster—a furnace from which a self-made man might someday be forged.

“Gregory, if I said this once, then I said it a thousand times,” Gadd said patiently. “I’m not a mad scientist.”

Greg rolled his eyes.

“If there aren’t any more questions, then we’ll continue where we left off yesterday,” said Gadd. “Please, take out your textbooks and turn to page 5.”

Rustling sounded as the students opened their textbooks, and then the day’s lesson began. As Gadd lectured and utilized the blackboard behind him, he observed the freshman, seated in the front row, furiously taking notes inside a green, spiral bound notebook. His eyes glittered intently, his tongue intermittently drawing across his lips. Greg, seated behind the freshman, was disinterested in the lesson, opting to launch spitballs at the one in front of him. Other than a few askance glares, the freshman didn’t react.

Gadd drew a diagram on the blackboard and started to ask a question related to his current lecture and the assigned reading, only for Greg to interject about halfway through.

“Could you let me finish my question, please?” Gadd asked.

Greg flushed slightly. “Uh—sorry, Professor,” he said.

As Gadd resumed asking his question, he saw a small smile quirk onto the freshman’s lips.

When he was finished asking, the freshman was the first to raise his hand.

Gadd smiled as he locked eyes with the student. “Antonio?”

Sitting straight and tall, Antonio answered the question perfectly, demonstrating that he’d not only read the material beforehand but also understood it.

“Correct,” said Gadd when Antonio was finished. “Well done, Antonio.”

“Thank you, Professor,” smiled Antonio, quickly glancing over his shoulder at Greg.

Gadd couldn’t see, but he knew that Antonio was giving Greg a triumphant look. Then, he turned back toward the blackboard, and the lesson resumed, Antonio taking detailed notes throughout.

There were ten minutes left in the lecture when the wail of an air raid siren punctured the silence.

“Please, form a single-file line and follow me to the basement,” instructed Gadd. “This is only an air raid drill. No actual nuclear bombs are being dropped.”

Gadd and his class joined the university’s other students and faculty as they descended a stairwell into the basement, where they quietly waited. The professor saw Antonio holding hands with a few other students, providing silent comfort, even though he appeared mildly frazzled himself. In every way, Antonio was definitely a model student—studious, punctual and possessing a quiet inner strength masked by a shy, quiet demeanor. Such a person could do well in the world of paranormal science.

The sirens soon quieted, and the all clear was given. Everyone in the basement collectively exhaled as they returned to their respective lecture halls. Gadd finished the last ten minutes of his lecture before dismissing his students with a big smile.

“And don’t forget, your first paper is due next month,” he said. “We will also begin preparing for our first exam.”

The students packed their backpacks and filed out of the classroom, with Antonio being among the last to do so.

**3:D 3:D 3:D**

Later that day, Gadd was in his office when he heard a knock at the door.

“Enter,” he said.

The door opened, and Antonio walked in. “Hi, Professor,” he said softly.

“Hi, Antonio. Good to see you,” Gadd replied.

“Is it okay if I get personal for a moment?” asked Antonio.

“Absolutely,” Gadd told him. “Whatever you say won’t leave this office.”

“Thanks, _Professore_ ,” said Antonio.

Taking a seat across from Gadd, Antonio began to speak.

“When I was young, I used to be afraid of ghosts. All young kids were, and I eventually outgrew that fear. But what stayed with me was my determination to fight against the fear, to not let it control me. And that’s why I decided to enroll in your class. I wanna keep fighting my fears, and I wanna prove the people around me wrong.

“It hasn’t been easy here at this university. I’ve not only been teased because I tend to be shy, but I’ve also been targeted because I’m Italian-American. I’ve been physically and verbally harassed and called vile names. But I’ve kept fighting because—that won’t stop me from being who I want to be. My parents always told me when I was growing up that I should never start fights. But while I’ll try not to start fights, you can bet your life that I’ll finish them.”

Gadd smiled at Antonio. “I used to fear ghosts, too, and I spent much of my early life proving my bullies wrong,” he said. “Do you want to know why I pursued a career in paranormal science?”

“Why?” asked Antonio.

“I wanted to find out what makes ghosts so frightening,” Gadd told him. “I didn’t want to be afraid anymore. Luckily, I had the support of an amazing professor when I was your age. He did a good job mentoring me, which is why I’m dedicated to mentoring other youngsters.”

“Like me,” said Antonio.

“Yes. Like you,” Gadd said warmly. “Do you see yourself having a career in the paranormal when you grow up?”

“No, Professor,” Antonio said honestly. “I’m pursuing an Engineering degree. I’ve always wanted to work with my hands. However, earlier today I came across a flyer talking about internships with you, and I must say, it sounds quite interesting. And if it’ll help pay my way through this university, then I’ll give it a shot.”

“I won’t start sending out applications until next month,” said Gadd. “However, I’ll make note of your interest.”

“Great. Thanks,” smiled Antonio. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He turned to leave, only for Gadd to stop him with a hand on his shoulder. “Wait,” he said.

Antonio turned. “Yes, Professor?”

“I really shouldn’t be doing this, but—I wanna show you something,” said Gadd.

He rose from his chair. “Could you please follow me?” he asked.

Antonio’s eyes shone with mild anticipation. “Sure,” he said.

Gadd gathered his things, left his office and walked toward the elevator bay, Antonio keeping easy pace behind him. The scientist called one of the elevators, and then the two men stepped inside. Then, Gadd pressed the button for the basement floor, and the elevator doors slid shut.

“Where are we going?” asked Antonio.

“You’ll see,” replied Gadd.

The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open. Gadd and Antonio disembarked and strode down the corridor together, pausing when they reached a door. With a smile, Gadd took a ring of keys out of his pocket and unlocked the door, inviting Antonio to walk through first.

“Whoa,” breathed Antonio when he stepped inside.

The room had been fashioned into a fairly large workplace. Two toolboxes sat on one table, several unfinished projects covered by a white sheet. Blueprints and schematics were neatly stacked on another area of the table, and in front of them were several cups filled with pencils, erasers and pens. On a shelf beneath a vent sat beakers and test tubes, and there were emergency eye washes and shower areas. Notebooks and several empty racks were on another table, and another part of the room opened into a living area of sorts, with couches, sofas, a desk, another table, cupboards filled with snacks and a fridge. There was even a radio and a record player.

“Welcome to my lab, Antonio,” said Gadd. “Not a lot of students have the pleasure of seeing it up close.”

“I won’t tell anyone, then,” promised Antonio. “However, I’ve got to say that this is amazing.”

“This is where I go whenever I have a brainstorm or need some alone time,” said Gadd, “but I brought you here so I could show you my brainchild.”

He walked over to a blue tarp, yanking it aside to reveal a red, cylindrical apparatus with a vacuum nozzle attached to it. Brown leather straps were hooked behind the apparatus, and a gauge of sorts was visible on one side.

“What _is_ that?” asked Antonio.

“This,” Gadd said excitedly, “is the Poltergust 400—my revolutionary ghost-capturing device.”

“Why would you want to capture ghosts?” asked Antonio. “They scared me when I was a kid, but they didn’t really _hurt_ me.”

“Indeed, but there are some ghosts out there who _want_ to hurt you,” cautioned Gadd, “and this is the only line of defense against them. They can’t be subdued via conventional means.”

“I see,” said Antonio.

Gadd set the Poltergust onto one of the tables. “Shall I explain how it works?” he asked.

“Please,” said Antonio.

“Okay, here we go. This white button controls the flashlight component. Press it once to turn it on, and press it again to turn it off. This red button activates the “stun” function. Be sure to point the wand away from your face whenever you activate it. This switch below the wand controls the suction. Sliding it away from you activates the exhaust function.” Gadd studied Antonio. “Would you like to try out the Poltergust 400?”

“Yes, please.”

Antonio shrugged off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves, and then Gadd helped him slide on the Poltergust.

“How are the straps?” asked Gadd. “Too loose? Too tight? Just about right?”

“They could use a little loosening,” said Antonio.

Gadd slightly adjusted the straps. “Better?” he asked.

“Better. Thank you,” said Antonio. “Just so you know, I’m ambidextrous, but I mostly favor my left hand.”

“I designed the Poltergust to accommodate different types of dexterity,” said Gadd. “Now, if you could please follow me.”

Gadd led Antonio to another area, where several small trapdoors were located.

“The most comfortable way to hold the nozzle is with both hands at a chest height,” said Gadd, “but you may adjust your grip in a manner you see fit at any time.”

Antonio grabbed the nozzle as instructed and awaited further directions.

“The thumb of your dominant hand should be at or near the stun button, and your other hand should be near the vacuum switch,” said Gadd.

“Okeydokey,” said Antonio, doing just that.

“Try to stand straight with your shoulders back. Your stance should be balanced, as it allows for better control.”

Antonio straightened his posture. “How’s this?” he asked.

“Perfect. Perfect,” nodded Gadd. “All right. I’m going to test you with some simulation ghosts. Are you ready?”

“Ready,” said Antonio, taking a deep breath.

“All righty. Here we go.” Gadd stepped away and dimmed the lights before starting the simulation.

One of the trapdoors opened, and out floated a small, light blue ghost.

“As you’ve learned so far, ghosts favor the dark,” said Gadd, “so flashing a bright light at them will temporarily incapacitate them and allow you to try to vacuum them up. Try to aim for their center of mass.”

The ghost floated toward Antonio, who took careful aim and pressed the stun button when the spirit was close enough. Unhesitatingly, he let the spirit have it with the vacuum, holding to the nozzle as the ghost struggled against the suction.

“You need to pull in the opposite direction!” Gadd encouraged. “Act like you’re playing tug of war!”

“Tug of war. Got it,” said Antonio as he planted his feet and rocked back slightly on his heels, resisting the ghost’s resistance.

A minute elapsed before the ghost broke free, sending Antonio stumbling.

“Whoa!” Gadd exclaimed. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah. I’m fine,” exhaled Antonio. “May I try again?”

“Yes, you may.”

Antonio brushed himself off and narrowed his eyes as the ghost stalked toward him again. He took a deep breath, let it out and stunned the spirit a second time before letting the Poltergust rip. This time, he maintained better control of the ghost and the suction, holding the nozzle so tightly that his knuckles were white. It was his idea to try and brace his body against a wall or the closest hard surface to prevent the ghost from dragging him around too much.

With great effort, Antonio sent the ghost into the Poltergust, the nozzle recoiling slightly in his hands.

“Well done, Antonio!” cheered Gadd. “You just captured your first ghost!”

Antonio blushed slightly.

“Are you ready for another one?”

“Why not?” replied Antonio.

“The trick is to surprise a ghost before they get too close to you,” said Gadd as another blue ghost emerged from one of the trapdoors. “Zing! Pow! They won’t even know what hit them.”

Antonio aimed the Poltergust’s wand at the ghost as they advanced. Before they could punch him, he flashed the stun light and set about wrestling the ghost into the vacuum. The ghost escaped twice and managed to land some good hits, but Antonio didn’t give up. Gadd watched, nodding in approval, as his student managed to wrangle the ghost and send them into the Poltergust.

“There you go! That’s how you do it!” laughed Gadd. “Okay, here’s where things get difficult. Ghosts rarely attack alone—you’ll usually find them in groups of two or more. However, the basics are about the same. Get ready.”

This time, a blue ghost and an orange ghost confronted Antonio. The orange ghost was stronger than the blue ghost and attacked faster. Antonio wound up trying to capture one ghost while trying to dodge the other, but he defeated them both nonetheless, vacuuming up the blue ghost before doing the same with the orange ghost.

“If your timing is right, you can stun more than one ghost simultaneously,” said Gadd.

“Thanks for the advice,” said Antonio.

Two more ghosts, blue and orange, emerged. After some careful maneuvering, Antonio managed to stun them both at once. During the ensuing struggle, the two ghosts tried to escape in different directions, leading to Antonio being dragged around more. Still, he managed to keep them firmly in the suction, soon sending them to join the other ghosts.

“My word, you’re doing great for a first-timer,” mused Gadd, “but try not to lower your guard.”

The next pair of ghosts to confront Antonio were two orange ghosts, who gave the young man a rough go of it. They landed some impressive blows, including a good wallop to the jaw, but the punches hardly affected Antonio, much to Gadd’s awe.

“Okay,” said Gadd when the three ghosts were captured. “Ready for the next challenge?”

Antonio nodded.

This time, a ghost emerged from all of the trapdoors and immediately started in on Antonio. He was quick on his feet, though, darting to a safer spot and stunning ghosts right and left. Gadd was impressed as Antonio kept up with the ghosts, shrugging off more blows as if they were nothing. There was _definitely_ something about this young fellow, he was sure of it.

Gadd crossed the room to his record player, chose a 45 and inserted it into the turntable before carefully dropping the needle onto the record. In short order, music began to play throughout the Lab as Antonio battled the rest of the simulation ghosts. He’d dig his heels into the floor and shift his grip on the nozzle, leaning his body out of the way of ghostly fists. Light sweat shone on his face, his cheeks flushing with exertion.

The last simulation ghost disappeared into the Poltergust. Antonio turned to look at Gadd, beaming.

“Wow! I actually did it!” he exclaimed.

“The main gist of wielding the Poltergust is learning how to use the stun and vacuum functions in tandem,” said Gadd. “You seem to be a rather quick learner.”

“Maybe that’s because I’m rather eager to learn,” winked Antonio. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to go again.”

“Very well,” said Gadd. “Just don’t hurt yourself or tire yourself out.”

Antonio laughed. “That’ll be the day,” he said.

For the next hour, Antonio slugged it out with the simulator ghosts as Gadd vigilantly looked on. With each round, the young man visibly got used to the Poltergust. He improvised so that he’d be dragged around less. He tightened his abdominal muscles to take the stress off of his arms. He braced himself for the slight recoil following a successful capture. If he was lucky, some dollar bills would be left behind in a captured ghost’s wake. Gadd continued to play upbeat records while Antonio perfected his technique. While the ghosts nailed him several more times, their punches wouldn’t knock the smile from Antonio’s face.

“All right, Antonio,” said Gadd. “I think that’s enough for one day.”

Antonio rolled his eyes, but he dutifully slid off the Poltergust and handed it to the Professor. His shirt was neatly soaked through with sweat, some of his hair was stuck to his face, and he was breathing heavily.

“Thank you for the opportunity,” Antonio said breathily.

“You’re welcome,” replied Gadd. “Now, let’s get those bruises looked at.”

“They’re not that bad, Professor,” said Antonio. “I can take a punch or two.”

However, he didn’t object when Gadd steered him toward the living area and had him sit on the couch.

The Professor grabbed some ice, made a cold compress and wasted no time pressing it to the bruises Antonio had sustained.

“The ghosts punched you really hard,” said Gadd, “and yet you were still standing.”

“Trust me, Professor,” Antonio said, his voice serious. “It’ll take more than a few punches to keep me down. I’ll ride out the pain, and I’ll get back up, and I’ll fight on. Like with Greg. His actions and his words hurt me, but I push on regardless. Trust me, I’ve wanted to take a swing at him more times than I can count. Yet I know that won’t accomplish anything.”

“You’re a good man, Antonio,” said Gadd.

“But if he takes a swing at me, then you can bet I’ll swing back,” Antonio went on. “I’m no pushover, as those ghosts found out.”

“You can always walk away,” Gadd told him.

“Professor—if people like Greg—if the ghosts—if you start running from them, then they’ll never let you stop,” said Antonio. “You’ve got to stand up, push back—let them know that you won’t put up with their nonsense.”

“I’ve never met a student quite as spirited as you,” said Gadd.

“I’ve always been spirited,” said Antonio. “Earlier, I told you that I want to work with my hands. But I also want to defend those who can’t defend themselves. I wanna look out for the little guy.”

“Me, too,” said Gadd. “That’s another reason why I pursued a career in paranormal research and ghost-wrangling. I don’t take kindly to pesky spirits harassing people for no reason.” He studied Antonio. “Do you want to capture some ghosts? Is that why you’re interested in interning with me?”

“It’s not just about capturing ghosts,” explained Antonio. “I don’t like bullies, plain and simple. I don’t care if they’re corporeal or ethereal.”

“In that case,” said Gadd, “you’re certainly qualified. But keep in mind—the Poltergust is for self-defense and for the defense of others only. Which means—don’t attack ghosts unprovoked.”

“Understood,” said Antonio.

Gadd finished icing Antonio’s bruises and gave him some salve to take home.

“Thank you again,” said Antonio.

“Antonio, it was my pleasure,” said Gadd.

Antonio and Gadd shook hands, and then the former put his jacket back on and grabbed his stuff.

The two men exited the lab and made their way out of the building. Antonio paused in the doorway, holding up the money the simulation ghosts had dropped.

“Those ghosts are buying me lunch this afternoon,” he said with a laugh.

Gadd laughed with him, and then he watched Antonio turn on his heel and stride away.


End file.
